


Of Tricksters and Trauma

by BlackJade



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Attempted mugging, Beauregard is a disaster and Jester needs to heal her sometimes, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Typical fight stuff, can be read as romantic if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJade/pseuds/BlackJade
Summary: Beau just hummed in acknowledgement, “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I don’t make a habit of depending on other people to keep me upright.”5 times Beau needs Jester to heal her, and one time Beau needed to heal Jester( fivegoldpieces on tumblr made a post about this, and I had to write it )





	Of Tricksters and Trauma

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this tumblr post: https://fivegoldpieces.tumblr.com/post/170530131813/fic-idea-beaujester-5-times-that-jester-healed

** I. **

Beau sipped on the ale in front of her, listening idly to the rag-tag group of adventurers she found herself with. It had been a pretty quiet week, spending the majority of it on the road, and so here they were, tired from travel in a tiny inn off the beaten path. Caleb and Nott were half asleep at the table, wrapped up in Caleb’s coat, and Molly and Fjord were talking in hushed voices, most likely playing some sort of verbal chess game, trying to find out each other’s secrets.

Beau’s eyes fell on Jester, who was cheerfully doodling in the small leather bound journal she kept with her. Her green cape was bundled under her elbows, acting as a makeshift pillow, and her legs swayed as she kicked the dust on the floor mindlessly.

“Like what you see?” Yasha mumbled next to her, startling her out of her thoughts. Beau spun her head to look at her, but she was also looking at Jester, albeit more in mild amusement than genuine interest.

“What? No! I mean,” Beau glanced back at Jester, then back to Yasha.

After a long silence, Yasha spoke up, “She’s cute.”

Beau couldn’t help but snort, “Yeah, you’ve said as much.”

Lazily, Yasha moved her eyes to Beau, quirking a brow, “You don’t think so?”

Beau sent her a calculated look, assessing whether or not Yasha was trying to get more out of her than she let on. All Yasha did, though, was shrug, pushing herself off the table and sauntering upstairs to her room.

“Do you think I’m cute?” Jester asked from next to her, making her jump out of her skin. Before she could say anything, though, Jester continued, “Also, you are very easy to sneak up on. And very loud.”

She had her usual Cheshire grin about her, and she rocked back and forth on her heels, seemingly unable to sit still.

Beau scoffed. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t eavesdrop on other people,” she said, getting up to make a dramatic exit.

She did not count on the fact that Yasha put her chair on top of one of her robes dragging on the floor. She also did not count on the fact that Jester was putting a lot of her weight on said chair.

So instead of an elegant and badass exit, she promptly ate shit, just barely bracing herself before she fell, landing hard on her wrist.

The commotion caused quiet to settle across the bar, worried and confused glances sent her way.

Jester burst out laughing.

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t even try to catch yourself, you just fell so hard, that’s hilarious!” Jester nearly doubled over, cackling to herself.

Red in the face, Beau scrambled up, ignoring the sharp shooting pain in her wrist. She also ignored Fjords question if she was alright as she marched upstairs, and Jesters call to come back as she slammed the door.

Beau paced around the room, shaking her wrist, cursing quietly to herself. Looking at it, it was already swelling up, likely sprained from where she landed on it.

 _Stupid_ , she thought, _rookie mistake._

She was poking at her wrist and chastising herself when a soft knock sounded on her door.

“What?” She called, looking for the healers kit she knew she had somewhere.

Jester’s head peeked through the door. She looked hopeful, but upon seeing Beau’s current predicament, she looked sheepish.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize for laughing at you when you fell. And also for making fun of you and causing you to leave. And also for startling you when I came over to make fun of you.” She said, looking more and more apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Beau said, even though it wasn’t really fine. She found the healers kit, and pulled out a bandage. Settling on the bed, Beau looped the cloth around her wrist, trying to bandage herself one-handed. Jester _tsk_ ed from the door, and welcomed herself inside, closing the door softly behind her. Sitting next to Beau, she held her hands out.

Beau looked cautiously between Jester and her wrist before slowly moving so Jester could help. Taking her hand, Jeter got to work wrapping her wrist, softer and more delicately than Beau had thought the trickster was capable of. Jester worked the bandage in neat spirals up her arm, overlapping each ring equally with the one before it. Her tongue was stuck out, eyes focused as she worked.

“Déjà vu, huh?” Beau mumbled, eager to break the silence. Jester startled, and Beau couldn’t help but feel a tinge of satisfaction at that.

“What do you mean?” Jester asked, snipping off the excess bandage and tucking the tail into place.

“Well, before we started traveling, when I disappeared for a bit, I came back with a busted up wrist, and you patched me up just like this,” Beau gestured with her wrist, now bandaged up in a pseudo-splint.

Jester shrugged, “Well, yeah, I’m The Cleric now, I’m supposed to patch you up when you get all ‘ _busted up’_ ,” She scrunched her nose up, “besides, I’m partially responsible for you being hurt just now, and it wouldn’t do at all to have the healer be the one who hurts. That’s all bad,” she cracked a smile, “I also like you enough to keep around, so I’ll keep you healed when I can.”

Beau just hummed in acknowledgement, “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I don’t make a habit of depending on other people to keep me upright.”

**II.**

The party was on the road, as they seemingly always were, though instead of a nice inn, they were resigned to camping out in the woods, at least four days from the closest town. Tents were pitched, mostly thanks to Molly and Yasha, and a small fire was started in the center of the small clearing they were claiming for the night.

“I’ll take first watch,” Beau said casually after their evening meal, mostly out of routine.

“I’ll take second,” came Fjord’s easy reply, just as he always did.

Beau nodded, taking her place with her back to the fire, looking into the thinly wooded area around them. The others took to their bedrolls, each taking claim to their typical areas of the camp, as was routine. Sighing, Beau resigned herself to the dull monotony of a boring nights watch.

She amused herself for the first hour by counting the stars and trying to remember the constellations she was taught when she was younger. She’d see a particularly bright star, and then try to find the brightest one closest to that, so on and so forth until she found a shape or gave up.

She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad thing that there were so many stars bright above them. It also didn’t help that the branches of the trees obscured the sky above, leaves blacking out parts of the sky that should be alight.

Standing up, Beau figured that higher ground would probably be helpful for watch anyways, and definitely not just her wanting to look at all the stars unhindered. Nope, it was totally for watch purposes only. Of course.

Carefully and silently, Beau made her way to the closest tree, finding footholds to hoist herself up with. Hands taking rough bark, she forced herself up the tree, bracing herself on branches when she got high enough to reach them. After a few moments, she found herself high in the tree, sitting amongst the leaves. Looking down, she was a good 25 feet off the ground.

Looking up, though, it was worth it. The stars shone brighter without the shadows of the trees blocking them out, and Beau swore if she reached up she could catch them. Humming to herself, she watched the sliver of a moon and the stars slowly move across the sky. She sat there for hours, careful to keep an actual eye out for trouble, but mostly absorbed in her own thoughts.

“Beau?” Fjord called from below, concern weaved through his voice. She looked down, and even in the darkness she could see Fjord, falchion in hand, looking around the small clearing.

“Yeah, I’m up here,” she called, not wanting to make him more worried than he already was. Fjord looked up, sheathing his weapon.

“Any particular reason you’ve made yourself comfortable up there?” He asked. Though Beau couldn’t see his face in the faint light, his tone was teasing.

“I, uh, saw something. And wanted to get to higher ground. To see it… better,” Beau shrugged, smiling lazily. _Nailed it_ , she thought.

Fjord narrowed his eyes for a moment, but sighed, “Alright. I’m just going to ignore the fact you can’t see without firelight, and take what you say as truth. But now I’m up, so would you care to get down from there before you fall and hurt yourself?”

Beau smirked, “Aww, are you worried? Relax, man, I’m perfectly capable of getting down without-”

_CRACK_

Before she knew it the branch she was sitting on snapped, and Beau was falling.

And before she knew it, she crashed landed on the ground, back hitting the forest floor with a dull thud, rattling her head, black sparkling across her vision. Faintly, she heard Fjord call for help, and then the warm feeling of magic stitching her together. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

“Nope, Beau, I’m going to need you to stay awake with me. Can you do that?” She heard the soft accent of Jester, sweet and lilting above her. She hummed, cracking one eye open again. Jester smiled above her, worry still evident in her eyes, despite her comforting words. “Okay, good. Can you open your other eye for me too?” Her other eye opened. “You’re doing so good, Beau, now, can you tell me where you are?”

“Forest,” Beau managed to wheeze out, skull still pounding.

Jester bit her lip, “Do you recall where this forest is?”

“Trostenwald,” Beau tried again.

“Very good. Do you know my name?”

“Jester.”

“Good, how long have you known us?”

Beau did some mental math in her head, “Two months.” Talking was getting easier for her, and she tried to get up, but Jester pushed her back down, gently.

“No, don’t get up just yet. It’s alright, don’t worry. Are you in any pain?”

“All over, thanks for asking,” she said, closing her eyes again.

“Okay, I’m going to feel for breaks, let me know if you can feel it, okay?” Jester lightly brushed her fingers along her torso, poking and prodding at her ribs.

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow,” Beau deadpanned, not just because it hurt, and it did, but just to show how unenthused she was about their current situation. Jester moved on to feel her calves for breaks, and though it was tender, it didn’t take the brunt of the damage like her back did.

“Do you still feel that?” Jester asked softly, poking harder at her knees.

“Ow, yes, I do.” Beau snapped, annoyance in her voice. It hadn’t been a lie when she said she was hurting all over. Jester, though, took that as a good sign, as she let out a huff of relief.

“Okay, I can fix this then, mostly,” and again the warm swirl of magic went through her. That got Beau’s interest, though.

“There was a chance you couldn’t?”

Jester looked uncomfortable, retracting her hands after the spell had finished, “Well, I mean, the spine is a tricky thing, and I’m not the best cleric. I mean, I’m very, very good, don’t get me wrong, but that was a big fall you had. And sometimes people who have very big falls aren’t able to get up quite so easily.”

Beau couldn’t tell if she was being talked down to because she wasn’t a spell caster herself, or if that was all Jester really understood of it, but either way she was too tired to argue.

“Whatever. Just have Fjord take over my watch, I’m going to bed.”

** III.  **

Cities have always been where Beau was most comfortable. Large crowds, lots of taverns, the whole thing made it easy to slip into the background and just watch for a bit, and watch she did. The rest of the group was holed up for the evening, the fight today tiring everyone out. Beau was the exception, having avoided most of the heavy hits from the creature they were tasked in hunting down.

And so here she was: walking about a city late in the evening, drinking in the sights and sounds. Most of the more savory places were closed down for the evening, but a few of the seedier joints were still bustling. She walked along, humming quietly to herself as she rounded a corner, making her round back to the tavern.

It was the wrong alley to turn into, in hindsight.

Beau walked down, hands in her pockets as she slinked through, keeping to the shadows, mostly out of habit. Suddenly, there her hand was being held behind her back, and a dagger was to her throat.

“Shit,” She sounded bored even to her own ears, helpfully disguising the genuine fear she felt.

“I don’t want a fight. Just give me your gold and your free to go,” the man behind her slurred, much too close for her liking.

“All I have is five copper and a winning personality,” she put her hands up placatingly, assessing the situation.

Before her attacker could say anything else, Beau pushed the dagger away from her throat, ducking her head under his elbow, effectively releasing herself from his grasp, and punched him squarely in the eye. He reared back, and Beau got a good look at him. He was middle aged, grey peppering his dark hair, and he was significantly taller than she was, swaying on his feet.

“You bitch,” He snarled, and lunged at her with the knife. She sidestepped, and brought her knee up to his face. He stumbled backwards, holding his nose.

Beau looked for another way out of the alley, and in that time her attacker got the better of her, slashing cross her torso with the knife. She stepped back, bringing one hand to hold her wound while the other was brought in front of her in a defensive stance. “What the fuck, man?” She cried, more annoyed than in pain.

Grinning, the man tried to take another swipe, but Beau dropped, sweeping her foot across his shins, bringing him to the ground with a yell. Once there, Beau kicked the dagger out of his hand, sending it skittering across the cobble street.

Her attacker took this opportunity to grab her foot, yanking her down with him on the ground. She steeled herself, trying to fall in a way that wouldn’t wind her. She was half-successful, falling on her side next to him. He took that time to use his height and weight advantage against her, rolling onto her and grabbing her by the throat.

He pressed down, hard, and Beau had to fight herself into not panicking. She grabbed onto his wrists and forced them down. Before she could react he was back on her, punching her in the jaw. Beau slammed her hand into his shoulder, and used his reaction of recoiling to give him a kick to his chin. He shouted in pain, staggering off of her. She jumped up, kneeing him in the torso on her way up. That was enough to keep him down, seemingly stunned into inaction.

Scowling down at him, covered in her blood, and Beau gave him a swift kick to the temple, rendering him unconscious. She spat on him for good measure.

The walk back to the inn was done basked in shadow, deliberately this time. Beau kept her eyes and ears open, honed in to her surroundings. Once inside the inn, she made her way silently into her room.

She hadn’t counted on Jester still being awake.

Jester looked up from her journal, a smile on her face, but it dropped as soon as she saw Beau.

“You should see the other guy,” Beau tried to joke, but it fell flat, her adrenaline still giving her a panicked air about her.

“Come here,” was all Jester said, pulling out her healer’s kit.

“Yes, ma’am,” Beau sighed, sitting on the chair next to Jester’s bed. Jester immediately got to work, pulling out bandages and salves from the kit, wetting a cloth with something in a dark amber bottle.

“This may sting,” She said, uncharacteristically quiet, pressing the cloth to the slash across her abdomen. It stung, and Beau hissed in response, but it hurt a lot less than some of what they’d done through. Jester finished wiping the blood away, and looked at the wound. Beau herself was surprised at how deep it was when she looked at it. Jester just sighed and pulled out a spool of thread and a needle, “I’m out of spell slots, and this can’t stay open until morning. I’m going to need to put sutures in,” She sounded resigned, apologetic in a way.

Beau just shrugged, “Do what you have to,” she shed some of her layers, trying to help Jester get a good angle. Jester just gave her a tired smile and threaded the needle. This was a familiar song and dance, as unfortunate as it may be.

Jester put a salve onto her torso, something to numb the pain, and set about her work, pressing the needle into flesh, pulling the thread taught, then going back to start a new stitch. She worked in silence, only Beau’s labored breathing filling the silence.

Only after the last stitch, after a knot was tied and a bandage found its way around Beau’s waist, did Jester speak up.

“What happened?” She asked, barely a whisper, lip quivering. She took Beau’s wrist gently, as though it might shatter if she handled it too roughly. Looking at it, Beau understood why; it was bruised heavily from where her attacker held her, and Beau figured that her neck didn’t look any better.

“I, uh, got surprised. He had a knife, I didn’t see it coming,” Beau shrugged, trying to ignore her own shaking. Jester went from looking pitiful to livid in less time than it took Beau to blink.

“Where is he? Did you kill him? I’ll kill him,” Jester seethed, fire in her eyes. Beau didn’t doubt she would.

“I left him in the alley he tried mugging me in. He, ah, doesn’t look much better than I do,” She smirked, and tried to ignore the feeling of the split lip she probably had.

Jester took Beau’s jaw in her hand, her glistening eyes searching for something in Beau’s face. Slowly, she spoke, “Beau, did he… try doing anything worse than mugging you?” she asked, quietly.

Beau blinked back in surprise. “No, no, nothing like that. I, uh, may have pissed him off a little, but, ah,”

Jester didn’t seem convinced, or at least seemed to think that it was crime enough to think about hurting Beau in the first place, but she hummed in acknowledgement anyways.

They found tired sleep, and in the morning, Beau spun a lovely tale about an owlbear attack, and no one questioned why the owlbear had left human handprints on her. When a man with a black eye and bruised temple walked into the tavern, Beau certainly didn’t flinch, and when Jester and Fjord walked out after him, nobody questioned it. Beau loved them for that.

** IV. **

“Jester, help. ‘m dying,” Beau murmured, hand reaching out.

“No, you’re not, you’re just sick,” Jester replied cheerily as she walked through the door of their home-base, mug of tea in hand.

“No, I’m dying,” Beau reiterated, drawing out her words, despite how her throat protested. She sat up in her bed, though, when Jester came over to hand her the tea. She sipped it, scrunching her nose at the caustic taste.

“Shush, you’re just going to make it worse. You sound like you gargled with gravel,” she chastised, taking out her healer’s kit and sitting in the chair next to Beau’s bed. She rummaged through the contents, unfazed by how scarce it was by now, took out a bottle, read the label, shook it, and unscrewed the lid, handing it to Beau, “Drink this.”

Beau raised her brows, taking the dark bottle. The liquid inside was thick and syrupy, and she gave it an experimental sniff. Even through her clogged nose, it smelt awful, like rot and sulfur. “This is going to poison me.”

“No it won’t, just drink it.”

“Don’t you have a spell that can cure me faster?” Beau asked hopefully, pushing the bottle back to Jester with a cough. Jester, however, was having none of it.

“You were the one who decided to sit in the rain all day. This is your karma. Drink it,”

“I get the feeling that you do this on purpose,” Beau sniffled, taking the bottle to her lips. She took a swig, and had to force herself not to cough it back up. It tasted like mint and cayenne and yeast, and had the texture of grainy, watered-down molasses. Retching, Beau handed the bottle back to Jester.

She smiled, “See, Beau, was that so hard?” her voice was teasing, chipper as it always was.

“Gods, I swear you enjoy making people miserable,” Beau grumbled, lying back down on the bed. Jester laid her head next to hers, arms crossed beneath her chin.

“I never enjoy seeing you miserable, Beau,” She said pushing a loose strand of Beau’s hair out of her face. Beau furrowed her brows, not expecting such a heartfelt answer from Jester. Looking at her fully, she could take in the dark purple under Jester’s eyes and the creases in her dress, probably still unwashed from yesterday.

“Jester, why don’t you lay down for a bit? I’m not going anywhere,” Beau suggested, burrowing further into her blankets.

“You’re sick, though,” Jester replied expressionlessly.

“I meant in your own bed! Gods, you’re insufferable,” Beau could feel the tips of her ears heating up.

Jester smirked, before carefully schooling her expression into a look of concern, “Beau, you’re looking red, are you feverish?”

Beau huffed and flipped over in the bed, turning her back on Jester, who was quietly giggling. They sat like that for a while, Beau lying in bed, trying to sleep, and Jester humming quietly next to her. Eventually, quietly, Jester shifted, snuffing out the lantern next to Beau’s bed, assumedly thinking Beau was asleep.

Jester stood up and placed a hand on Beau’s head, and Beau forced herself not to jump at the touch. Keeping her breathing even, Beau felt Jester place a soft kiss to her temple.

“Goodnight, Beau. Feel better,” she whispered, before making her way out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Only after she left did Beau let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

** V. **

The town they were staying at had rumors of a creature living in the caves nearby, and their party was offered a pretty reward for clearing it out. Obviously, they didn’t have a plan of attack, but hunted the beast down anyways.

Now, there they were, weapons drawn, staring down a monster with too many eyes and too many teeth. Its features lurched and moved in unnatural spasms, slinking and drifting to the edges of the damp confine.

Molly was the first to move, drawing a blade across his arm before slicing it towards the beast. It moved deftly out of the way, languid in its movement, and Molly gritted his teeth in irritation.

Beau reacted next, running up to flank it. Calculating its movements, Beau drove her staff into one of its eyes, causing it to rear back in pain, a low rumble reverberating from its core. The creature whipped its attention to her, and Beau realized how much it blended in with the shadows in the dim light. “Caleb!” she shouted, “A little light would be appreciated!”

“On it,” He called back, mumbled in the way his words got when he concentrated. The room lit up in golden light, three small orbs illuminating the large cavern they found themselves in. Nott pulled up her crossbow, an arrow finding purchase in one of the beast’s legs. It growled, the slick fur on its canine-esque body bristling.

Jester sent a ray of radiant light towards it, showering it in sparks of holy fire, and Fjord sent his own ray of magic towards it, causing the creature to rear back in pain.

It lunged for the two spellcasters, but Beau knocked it’s back leg out from under it, causing it to crash to the ground, snarling. It snapped its teeth at Fjord, catching his ankle with one of its sharp incisors.

Molly made another lunge for the creature, driving both of his swords into its flank, causing it to let out a noise caught somewhere between a roar and a yelp.

Beau made her way over to where the mouth of the beast was, aiming to strike it in the eyes again, but she miscalculated how fast it was, and suddenly a large set of teeth were digging their way through her side.

“Fuck!” She cried out, reflexively swatting it away with her staff. Her movement, however, did nothing but drive the glassy teeth of the creature deeper into her flesh. Biting back a scream, Beau tried forcing her hands on either side of the monstrosity’s jaw, hoping to pry herself out.

Fjord took his falchion and brought it down on the creature’s neck, forcing it to drop Beau in surprise, causing her to tumble to her floor. The creature reared back again, this time going for Jester, but she dodged out of the way just as a powerful claw swiped at her.

Catching her breath, Beau readjusted her grip on her staff and swung it wildly at the creature, feeling satisfaction and the sickening _crack_ of something in the creature’s skull shattering. She took another swing, this time coming from under the jaw, another dull snap of something inside the creature giving out.

It fell to the floor, and gripping her side, Beau stumbled up to where it landed, and started hitting it with all she had left.

“Shitty-” _thwack_ “-fucking-” _thwack_ “-bite-” _thwack_ “-monster,” _thwack_

A soft hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her trance, and Beau whirled around to see Jester, soft eyes flooded with worry, “Beau, you’re turning it into jelly. It’s dead.”

Beau looked down at her work, and the sad excuse for a head the creature now had. Huffing, she slopped onto the ground, all but collapsing in exhaustion.

Jester settled herself next to Beau, and laid her hands on her wounded side, whispering an incantation. Slowly, the magic started to stitch the wound back together. Beau watched in mild interest as muscles and tendons weaved back together, sinew and tissues finding their place amongst the mess that her right half had become. Beau felt the pain that would be blinding if not for her adrenaline ebb back to a dull, throbbing ache, something much more manageable now that the threat of imminent death was over.

“Thanks, Jest,” Beau smiled tiredly at Jester, who smiled back just as wearily, “we’d be done for without you.”

“Just doing my job as The Cleric,” She replied softly, shrugging herself deeper into her cloak.

** +I. **

 They stumbled their way back to the inn, Beau still leaning heavily on Fjord for support, though she insisted that she could totally walk on her own if she wanted to.

They trudged back to their rooms, and Beau all but collapsed on her bed. She watched Jester sit gingerly on her own bed, but she didn’t make any moves to undress or get into bed. This got Beau’s attention.

“What’s up?” She asked, propping herself back up on her elbows.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just, um, go to bed, I need to take care of something,” Jester said, hugging her cloak tighter to herself.

Beau sat up fully, eying Jester suspiciously. Taking in her appearance, she looked just as exhausted as Beau felt, tousled hair and rumpled clothes from the battle. Her cloak was grimy and worn, and there were dark red splatters from where the beast they had slain bled on her. Looking closer, though, the red also trailed under the cloak, and down Jester’s arm.

“Jester... Would you like to take off your cloak?” It was more of a statement than a question, and Jester looked like she would argue for a half of a second, before resigning herself to her fate and unclasping the garment, letting it fall aside.

It turns out that the swipe the beast tried to land on Jester was more successful than Beau had thought. Three deep gashes ran across Jester’s chest, starting at her collar bone and ending just below her ribcage. The fabric of her shirt was torn and fraying, stuck to her body with dried blood. Beau sucked in a breath, rising from her bed and crossing the room to carefully assess the wounds closer.

“What the fuck, Jester? You were just going to leave these?” she asked, trying to pull away the ruined shirt. Jester had the decency to look guilty at that.

“I don’t have any spell slots left, and my healer’s kit ran out of supplies,” she explained, pointedly looking everywhere but at Beau.

Beau, in turn, let out a noise of frustration before pulling out her own healer’s kit, setting it down unceremoniously next to Jester. “Take your shirt off,” she said, pulling out the dark amber bottle she’s seen Jester use on her own wounds countless times.

“Ohh, scandalous,” Jester smirked, raising her brows. Beau just sent her a disapproving look, and Jester deflated, unbuttoning her blouse.

Beau pulled it away from the wound carefully, apologizing under her breath at Jester’s hiss in pain.

Wetting a cloth with the bottled liquid, Beau raised it up to the first laceration, “I know this is usually your line, but this is going to sting,” and that was all the warning she gave before rubbing away the red around the wounds. Jester whimpered when contact was made, and Beau felt her heart constrict.

Slowly and painstakingly, Beau cleaned the claw marks on Jester, changing the cloth when the first did more smearing than cleaning. Jester looked down at herself, appraising Beau’s work.

“These could probably be stitched, if you’re feeling confident,” She mumbled, eyes teary from the pain, pinching together two sides of the middle gouge. Beau batted her hand away, digging into her kit.

“I’m not about to start poking more holes in you,” She said, pulling out a roll of bandages and a herbal balm. After dressing the wound with the salve, Beau wrapped the linen strips around Jester’s shoulder, bringing it down her chest. It was lumpy and uneven, but it would hold Jester together until morning, and that’s all Beau could have asked for at that point.

“There we are, all finished,” Beau shook her hands out, muscles stiff from trying to finesse the bandages into place.

Jester looked at her bandages, a confused look on her face.

Beau cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck, “I know they’re not great, but they should hold until someone who knows what they’re doing can-”

“Why heal me?” Jester asked, looking more puzzled by the second

Beau nearly choked on her words, “I… excuse me?”

“I can heal myself come morning. Why waste supplies on me?” She tilted her head, wrapping her arms across herself.

Beau just stared, “Because you were hurt. And you shouldn’t have to suffer through the night even though you technically have the ability to heal yourself. I can patch myself up just fine-”

“Debatable.”

Beau glared, “But. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should. And you help me out all the time. It’s about time it’s mutual. Besides, it doesn’t do us any favors if the healer is the one who’s hurt.”

Jester stared for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Okay… Thank you, I guess. For helping.”

Beau felt her cheeks flush, “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Last thing we want is for you to get in the habit of depending on me to keep you upright.”

Jester smiled brightly, “Isn’t that already what happened with you? Depending on me to keep you upright?”

Beau gave a relaxed smile back, “Yeah, I guess it is.”


End file.
